


Caterpillars (and Butterflies)

by Tierfal



Category: Honeydew Syndrome
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-27
Updated: 2012-03-27
Packaged: 2017-11-02 14:27:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tierfal/pseuds/Tierfal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh is trying to do his homework, the operative word being "trying."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caterpillars (and Butterflies)

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaaaand that's the last of the extraordinarily antiquated giftfic… for Powdered_Opium… that year.

Josh stares at the page, blinking gritty eyes, and the letters start to blend into a caterpillar of confusion.

…if he needed any more evidence that he’s overtired, that would be it.

Metis tells him that he does too much—tries to do too much, is more like it, since he’s reached the point at which the hacky sacks he’s juggling have become too numerous and started to drop.

…still a resounding _No_ on the metaphors, then.

That’s Metis, too—Metis can snatch a word right out of the air, unfold it, unpack it, rebuild it, and set it back in flight like some kind of butterfly, twice as pretty as it was before. Metis can make poetry out of _silence_ —and Josh isn’t so great at analyzing the stuff, but he can _hear_ when it’s good.

It’s funny—Josh picks up the Bat Signal coffee mug that holds his pencils and then puts it down again—it’s funny how people worm their way into your life, changing moments and creating associations everywhere they go, spreading like a sickness, claiming bits and pieces almost at random, altering your memories one at a time. It’s funny how much Metis owns without asking, owns by being who he is, by speaking, by smiling when a stupid TV commercial comes on. It’s funny how you share your life with people like Metis whether you like it or not.

Josh rubs his eyes, then the rest of his face; might as well procrastinate thoroughly. He’s sunk—like a stone, like a ship, like a kite with too much of a tail.

…maybe that was a little better. Probably not.

His phone vibrates, dancing across the desk, and Josh shamelessly pounces on the reprieve.

It’s a text. It’s Metis. It reads _do your homework_. Josh’s emo-loser-geek-weirdo-poet boyfriend also happens to have ESP.

It figures—Metis tells him that he does too much, and then Metis tells him to do more. Metis tells him to _expect_ more, of himself, of his life, of the universe at large. Metis tells him to believe in things, to hope recklessly, to dream with both eyes open.

_its too hard_ , Josh texts back.

He spends a moment contemplating the Batman mug, and then the phone buzzes again with a reply:

_i hold high standards for arrogant jock boyfriends. get back to work. i have a cookie for you._

Josh does what Metis tells him.


End file.
